Lullaby of the Broken
by infxrmus
Summary: AU. Claire miraculously survives the time machine explosion, but the incident has left terrible distress in her system—eventually becoming a disease that would challenge her team's scientific pursuit and, more importantly, her relationship with Hershel. /inspired by The Time Traveler's Wife/
1. prologue

**CLAIRE. April 1945.**

"Ms. Foley?"

 _What?_

I stood in the middle of the fixated tube that occupied the time machine's interior. The stationed pilot was only visible from the small glass window, placed just near the edge of the launch post a few feet away from where I stood. I squinted into the window, and signalled that I didn't get the message.

"Headgear on, please, Ms. Foley."

"Oh." I released the helmet from its lock and put it on. I reclosed the clasp and from there I began feeling nauseous. The machine seemed to sway, and sure enough, it did.

"Initial motor check, with the passenger."

I shook my head. The voice was obscured by several beeping noises coming from both outside and inside the machine. Eventually they clashed and began reverberating painfully in my head. The engines from behind me whirred restlessly—bronze gears screeched as the several exterior locks clattered into place.

"Motor check . . . successful. We're just making . . . safety tests before launch."

 _What?_

The longer I wore the helmet, the more difficult things became to hear, thankfully it also covered most of the machinery noise. I stood as firm as I could, desperately trying to slow my heartbeat down my putting my hands over my chest in hopes to ease my breathing. I was given a medical run-through just before the test, including all necessary stabilization processes. I couldn't help but wonder if this might have been worse if I hadn't gone through those . . .

 _Breathe, Claire. Breathe._

Another beep coming from the inside, this time so loud it pierced right through my helmet, trumping all the other noises. My ears buzzed and my hands trembled. I felt the hair on my skin raising. My chest tightened even more. _Perhaps it would be better if they gave me anaesthetics instead?_

"Launch . . . two minutes. Begin . . . countdown."

 _Two minutes?_ That seemed enough time to calm myself down as I needed to, so I did exactly that.

" _. . . Claire. Be safe._ "

 _Hmmm? Was that . . .?_

"Initiating launch."

I heard the propeller whirl, and the world around me spun just as so. Everything else was a blur of black and white, made worse by a burning smell that eventually grew too strong that my tongue got numb from its taste and the ear-splitting rattling of the engine just below where I was, making my legs tremble. I held the rails inside the launch tube and closed my eyes.

Glass began shattering, first bit by bit, then shattering all at once. It was the observation window. Smoke coming through it from the outside caused me to choke and cough. I couldn't get even a glance of what was outside—everything was moving too fast, and the rest of my body was numbing itself down. My head throbbed harder and my legs barely held up.

My ears rang once more. More wind and smoke rushed into the machine, filling it almost completely. I didn't dare open my eyes. I couldn't. But I didn't need to—that is, to know that a door had been flung open by the force. Another beep cut through all the noise.

I gasped, and quite painfully.

 _No._

The shutdown valve had been triggered.

 **HERSHEL. April 1945.**

"Oh, good afternoon! That is a lovely hat, Mr. Layton," the jeweller greeted. "Hmm . . . or should I say, Professor Layton?"

"Good day, lad. Thank you. . . Well, I suppose word does travel quickly." I turned in a subtle smile. "But it seems too early for formalities."

The young jeweller shrugged. "Still, it has a nice ring to it."

"Ah! Ring . . ." That, I found, was a really clever coincidence. _I suppose it isn't so bad to just cut to the chase every once in a while._ "Yes, a ring, speaking of which," I told him, hovering over the rows of precious jewellery encased in glass.

He glanced intently at the top hat. "Did I hear right? A ring?" He asked, looking quite delighted, grinning at me. "So you've made up your mind about this, sir? When would this be?"

"Actually, I was planning later at dinner. . ."

"Ahhh . . ." He squinted. "Well . . . I suppose I know one . . ." The lad began skimming the displays and before I could even respond he was already holding a quaint velvet box. He set it down before me and opened it—and inside was an intricate silver ring, molded with detail along the outside, and decorated with a tiny pink pearl in the center.

I held the ring and for a moment I knew I felt a familiar warmth buzz through.

How the young lad managed to pick a piece spot on in such little time was beyond me . . . I supposed he knew me too well. Perhaps he already knew the lady I would be giving it to. I looked at it once again. My God . . . It's perfect. Too perfect . . . perhaps even too good to be true. But, dear me, was it really the time to be cynical of things?

"What do you think, sir?" He grinned once again.

"Why . . . I think that's it, lad."

"Excellent!"

He took the box and wrapped it in a sheet of patterned fabric. A white silk ribbon sealed the package. Before I paid for it, he asked, "Well, I hope you don't mind me asking, dear sir, but did she like the pocket watch?"

I nodded. "Oh yes, she did indeed."

"I'm glad to hear that," he replied, handing me the small wrapped box, in which lay another gift for her—for Claire.

"I suppose I should go now. Thank you so much. Until next time, my boy."

"I'm honored . . . Professor."

I walked back to the house, gift in hand, and top hat on. _Like a true gentleman._

The weight of the ring was light, but a pang of uncertainty made it feel heavier than it was. This gift was different. I might have argued with myself saying it was just another small token, but a token nonetheless, and . . . a symbolic one, just like the pocket watch I had given her. It wasn't so puzzling, not as puzzling as before, thanks to the good lad, who caught on quickly enough.

Well, the real puzzle, it might seem, did not lie in the ring itself, but how Claire would take everything. What could she possibly say? We had talked about this, somehow, although quite shyly, a few weeks ago.

 _"Hmm . . . you mentioned something about plans, Hershel?"_

 _"Plans! Ah, of course. . . Plans . . ."_

 _"Would you care to tell?" She gave me a sweet smile once again._

 _"I was thinking, perhaps, after I get into the university . . ."_

We hadn't talked about _this_ ; the topic of . . . _marriage_ came about in subtle hints, like stray puzzle pieces. We only managed to discuss my admission into the Gressenheller faculty, her pursuing a medical degree, and . . . today's experimental run.

From there my thoughts lingered. I thought of where Claire could be right now, or even when. My heart beat grew faster. I glanced at the little velvet box in my hand, and held it tight. I adjusted my hat, a gift from Claire when she visited earlier this day, as I thought of her and what she had told me: _"Very dashing, Hershel. The picture of a true gentleman."_

Oh, what I'd do, to make sure my dear lady is safe. Right now, more than anything, I wish for her safety.

 _Be safe, Claire._ I whisper to the wind.

Although lost in a vast sea of thought and possibility, I proceeded to stroll along the London streets, praying and hoping.


	2. 001

**CLAIRE. April 1955.**

Thump. Thump. Beep.

 _The shutdown valve had been triggered . . ._

Beep. Beep. _Thump._

 _I opened my eyes but when the light appeared it stung. My face felt prickly hot, and I could tell I was covered in sweat. My headgear was missing; I assumed its lock must have snapped. So underneath my head, instead of the headgear cushion I felt a warm but damp surface. I breathed in; fortunately the smoke was no longer around—and no gusting wind, either, for that matter. There was only exhausting heat and the familiar smell of . . . grass._

 _I fell onto grass. Thank goodness._

 _I tried moving my limbs and I knew immediately that they've been bruised, perhaps even scraped from a fall. Every attempt to move, to even just twitch, brought about enough pain to not be dismissed. I groaned, and sure enough, it felt more burdening than it should._

 _This state of utter discomfort made my mind a clouded mess. I couldn't think of what to do next; to wait for the aching to subside or grab something to fix myself? The machine had a compartment for first aid, which would be useful if it was still anywhere around—I'd have to find out, I suppose. And aside from getting myself fixed the only thing I wanted to do was get up and figure out what had happened._

Not yet _, my body protested. I needed to know where I was but I couldn't; it got worse because even the smallest glimpse I could muster only gave way to blinding light._

 _. . . So what do I do? How am I supposed to—_

 _"CLAIRE!" A distant voice called to me. I didn't move; for some reason my instinct found no reason to be alerted. It could have been anyone, but it knew—I knew—it was . . . familiar._

 _So . . .who was that, really?_

 _"Claire!" The voice seemed to get closer. I breathed in, tried opening my eyes again so I could see whom it was, and finally I was able to, though just merely peek. The sunlight stung, but I didn't mind that for now. I just needed to see. . . just . . ._

 _"I'll be right there!"_

 _. . . Hershel?_

 **HERSHEL. April 1955.**

Ah, surely I recall this day. This was the day you got sent here from your time machine test run, the day when all of . . . _this_ started. Strange, how time flies. It's been ten years. But everything that has transpired so far continues to puzzle me. We've both had our own share of adventure, but what I'm most thankful for is that no matter what may come by, we somehow still manage to find our way to each other.

It's true . . . every puzzle does have an answer; some puzzles just take a tad longer to find a solution to. And I thank you, my dear, for making sure I never forget that.

 _"Lucky for me, every puzzle has an answer. Isn't that what you always say?"_ Yes, it is, and because of you, I have grown to believe in it even more.

Time—it has always fascinated us both, hasn't it? You loved telling me stories about the paradoxes surrounding time, and its companion, space. Most of them were, put in your terms, complex scientific conquests, and the rest were pleasant memories I never tire of looking back to. One thing I was sure of, I enjoyed hearing them from you. Although some days we don't get to talk as often as we used to, every day I look forward to seeing you again, that we may share more of these stories and just be with one another. Every day.

My dear, it's almost time. I must go now, for you should arrive any minute. I'll make sure you are safe. And to be quite honest, I can't wait to see you. I missed you. I miss you so much, like I do every moment that we part.

Farewell, for now. I shall make for you a cordial welcome. After all, that's what a gentleman does.

 _"Claire . . . I'll be right there!"_

 _I just ran to you, lying on the grass all bruised and scratched, with your muddied clothes, and approached with caution. I sat next you and rested your head on my lap. You groaned in pain as tears began streaming down your face. I held you close, ever-so-gently. You were trying to speak but I put a finger to your lips. "Claire, not now . . . it's alright. I'm here."_

 _You held my hand tight—I saw that yours were sore. So I took the medicine from my satchel and gave you a drink, which you took gently. I pressed a cool damp cloth lightly against your cheek, which was bleeding from a graze. You coughed up a little blood. Every now and then you would whimper, and I when I heard you I wanted so much to stop this, to make everything better._

 _Finally you were able to open your eyes and you saw me, to your surprise. You wouldn't stop crying, and at that moment I gave in to my tears as well. We cried together. I wasn't wounded at all, but strangely I also felt your pain, that grave physical pain. I eased it for you the best that I can. But there was a certain pain I knew I couldn't fix—the damage, this burden we have shared for the past ten years. The burden you are about to know of._

 _It hurt so badly, having to see you like that, time and again. It's like seeing everything fall apart over and over. I've broken long ago, but that moment shattered me once more._

 _Because I couldn't tell you everything just yet; it wasn't the time. I knew what I had to do, even though I know it wouldn't be enough to reverse this. To bring everything back. To stop this from happening before it ruins everything and takes over our life together. I knew you would be gone, fade back into the past—ten years ago—and I would be left here again waiting for your return._

 _I handed to you the headgear, which I helped you put on. This thing would be the one to save you, my dear. At first it seemed to me like an attempt or a desperate call for divine intervention, but I've seen what this had done. If anything, this device was the reason you were able to live._

 _"What . . ?." You tried to ask. I could hear every painful breath that you took._

 _"Please, Claire. You have to wear this. Just trust me." I was surprised I could even speak at that time._

 _Then as I continued to give you aid it began—you began to_ fade _._


	3. 002

**CLAIRE. April 1955—April 1945.**

"Hershel . . . Thank you . . ." I didn't know if you could hear me, but I said it anyway. Perhaps there was a chance you would, despite my struggle to speak, my numbed lips, and my distraught state of mind. But I wanted you to know, I heard every word you said. And the underlying sense of fear that your words carried.

My chest seared with intense pain, and it heaved me down. As much as I wanted to hold you tight, and be in your embrace, stay that way and never leave, I couldn't. A wandering essence inside of me, a part of my mind that was flickering as I breathed, prevented me from doing so. After all, my stay in this particular time was meant to be fleeting. I could already feel myself fading back into the rift in between. I shouldn't be surprised at all.

But still, I asked, _Hershel . . . what is to become of me? Do you know what will happen?_ The look on your face told me that you did. My thoughts were a clutter of doubt and confusion. I was even unsure if I had said that out loud to you, or just put it up somewhere in the back of my mind. Even if I hadn't, you seemed to know what I was saying. . . Did you? The light in your eyes flared with a kind of dread I had never seen in them.

You tended to my wounds with care, gentleness all too familiar. _Hershel, do you know now why I always insisted you were born a gentleman?_ You probably would smile hearing so if that had not been the situation. All the aching and burning subsided, for a short gratifying moment. At that moment I felt the warmth of being next to you again, and I wondered, _Could this be the last time we would see each other?_

With your unsteady hands, stained with dirt and drips of blood, you took out a headgear similar to what I was wearing just a while ago. I thought maybe it was the same one and that you found it somewhere, but with a careful glance I realized it wasn't.

"Here, Claire . . ."

"What . . . ?" was the only word I could utter . . .

"Please, Claire. You have to wear this. Just trust me." Without skipping a beat, Hershel, I knew my entire heart and soul steered towards your trust—it might as well have been a vast field, and I, my entire being, the raincloud that has outpoured itself onto it. It knew no other way.

You made me wear the gear and whispered to me, "Be safe."

I felt my essence wither, slowly and agonizingly, once more. The world started to blur away—you started to blur away. Like an innocent droplet evaporating into the sky, the rift of time carried me into the infinite ocean that it is.

. . .

Thump. Thump. Beep.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

The air I breathed was clean and crisp, as was my vision when I opened my eyes. Instead of a bed of grass and dew I felt layers of soft sheets beneath me. I craned my neck, which still hurt though not as much as it did before. Little by little a hospital room revealed itself before me, with my eyesight adjusting. I inhaled one more time, and then took my time to observe where I was. The light before me was not blinding, nor distorted. The soft ticking of the clock on the bedside table, on which lay the top hat I had given Hershel earlier, became calming, accompanied by a subtle snoring just nearby . . .

Sure enough it was Hershel, sleeping by my bed, his head leaning onto his crossed arms. The sight of him lifted my spirits, everything felt so much lighter, and I breathed with more ease. I reached for him, despite my arm being bound in gauze. I held his hand gently.

Well . . . Everything seemed real, real enough. _And even if it wasn't entirely, Hershel being here was enough._

And with this contemplation I was able to convince myself of something that was more than enough. . .

I was alive.

. . .

"Careful with Hershel . . . seems he has not gotten enough rest."

It was Dimitri Allen, standing by with a clipboard in hand. His expression remained grim and mysterious, maybe even more than it usually was. He read through several notes stacked upon each other. He stood there silently, leafing through these papers and turning his attention back and forth from it to another table crowded with devices and medical tools.

"How are you feeling, Claire?"

"Dimitiri," I replied with as much strength as I could build up my voice with, "Well enough."

"Well enough . . ." He repeated, nodding to his readings. "Anything else?"

It was silent for a while. The ticking of the clock grew louder every second. Hershel kept still in his sleep, but he barely made a sound now. Dimitri began tapping his pencil against the clipboard. Finally I told him, "I don't know . . . what happened."

He shook his head. "Neither do we. Although we're working on it."

"How is it so far?" I asked, observing his restlessness.

"Slow. Maybe even held back. But what happened with the machine doesn't matter." I noticed the sudden graveness in his tone, and I froze right then. The wounds I had stung once again.

"W-Why?" I heard myself stutter.

Just then Hershel shifted, and in mere seconds he was sitting up, well and awake, yet I saw the disoriented state beneath his composure. He held my hand and leaned closer to me. He planted a kiss on my forehead, and I smiled at him. He looked exhausted—eyes bloodshot and lips chapped, and most of all, there was worry in his voice as he whispered, "I'm so glad you're safe, my dear."

". . . Hershel . . . Thank you so much . . ."

"Excuse me for a moment." Dimitri placed his clipboard on the table and exited the room. The door thudded loudly as he closed it. I heard partly the muffled conversations he was having with others, presumably doctors and our fellow lab personnel, just outside.

"Claire, just rest for now. Don't worry about anything," Hershel continued to whisper. "I'm here for you. I'll stay here with you."

"Hershel . . ." My voice trailed off as I remembered what Dimitri said. "Forgive me for asking . . .? What's wrong? Did something else happen?"

"Ah. . .well, Claire . . .Please don't worry about that for now. It'll be alright." Tears welled up in his weary eyes. His fists were clenched, evidently shaking. An immediate surge of terror found its way through my body, and soon enough I found my chest constricting, lungs struggling to breathe . . . I struggled to think. I couldn't recall as much but I know something did happen . . . Did I miss anything?

The door opened and Dimitri entered once again, this time looking even more distraught. The doctor followed right behind him, carrying the same clipboard. I turned to Hershel, who responded with a shake of his head. He looked down and kept quiet.

Dimitri spoke. "You see, Claire, your injuries will take only a few more days to recover. You'll be able to return home soon enough, in fact. But there's something even more worrisome that this . . .

"We found complications in your structure. It seemed to have been . . . affected by the time machine. It can't seem to stabilize after the explosion. You were able to make it back to this time, but I'm afraid your body has been triggered to adapt the intermittent nature of the time rift . . ."

The doctor skimmed his notes, then continued what Dimitri was saying. "As of now we are not fully certain; however your body may experience the similar response you've had to the time machine. Simply put . . . fade through time." He cleared his throat. "That may be the worst case scenario. Of course we still need to study possible ways on how to stabilize your system.

"For now, you just need to rest. We have observed a few side effects, but they're just mild sickness and such. And based on certain patterns, should you fade into a different time once again, it will only be temporary. You should return back to this present time eventually."

. . .

The rest of what he said gradually blurred out. Hershel's silhouette was then a mere smudge in my vision. I felt the malaise creep into my head, and in only a few seconds I found myself drifting back to deep sleep.


	4. 003

**HERSHEL. April 1945.**

 _I'm just waiting for you to wake up. This was never meant to happen, I keep telling myself. No one deserves this, especially not you. I would never have imagined anything of this magnitude keeping things at bay for us. Just not long ago everything was okay, I was going to make things right finally—I was readier than ever to take your hand and kneel before you, perhaps as nervous as the schoolboy I was six years ago when we first met but strong as I am now after all this time. The greatest dream we have together will finally be within our reach._

 _And then things went wrong, everything seemed to crumble down within a few moments. But you're strong, Claire. With that you made me so. I just know that it will be worth it, and I will wait, and wait more, if I have to. I feel detached from the rest of the world, having stayed next to you at this hospital for the past two days. I've grown worried because you aren't showing signs of waking up anytime soon. But just let me hold your hand through this; let me be here to watch over you . . . The moment you open your eyes, I will make sure to welcome you with the warmest embrace, the sweetest smile, as you have always done for me._

 _Claire, my dear, it's difficult, all this waiting. Everything around us is falling to uncertainty and I can only hope for the best. Even the fate of this ring in my hand remains unclear. But know that I will not lose my faith in us, that I will find us the time that we may live in peace and beauty, no matter what. I shall present to you this ring someday, if not soon. That will not stop me from trying. One day you will not only wear this fine ring on your finger, but also lay in this love I offer to you with all that I am._

 _I will be right here with you. We will make it through this._

I slung her arm over my shoulder as she moved cautiously along the living room, taking care not to hurt her already sprained foot. She had grazes all over which had enough time to heal in a week, and all other minor injuries were accounted for except for her sprain. The only way she'll be able to walk for now, according to Dimitri, was with support, crutches or otherwise … in this case, me. I let her rest on her couch while I, with her permission, entered the bedroom to set her things in the wardrobe.

She sat quietly there, almost blankly. As soon as I was done I returned to living room and sat next to her, only to fall as silent as she was. We ended up staring at one another for a while, just aimlessly getting lost in our surroundings, and in each other. At this moment everything seemed okay once again, just the two of us still connected amidst fear, connected in what I could only describe as hope, and love.

A few minutes passed and she decided to change in her room. I helped her walk to the door. When I returned to the couch I reached for my satchel to get that one little token. More than a week has passed since I bought it, and since I have planned to use it, but I never got to. I struggled to decide what the right time was to give it to her, but everything still seemed like it needed time to fall into place. The quaint velvet box rested on my palm, waiting to be opened before her. It could be tomorrow, the following week—who knows? I pocketed the box and strolled to the balcony.

I gazed upon town, still peaceful as ever, mostly unaware of the explosion back at the laboratory. It just seemed right that they didn't know, for this peace was too precious to be broken by tragedies. Today was a good day, I thought, not only because of the sunlight, trees, and melodious street chatter, but because Claire was back on her feet after days of recovery. She had healed so much within the time, and I will hope she will continue to.

 _Today . . . It was a good day. What could possibly make it better?_

 _Ah, perhaps. Perhaps . . ._ I held the little box in my hand once again. I breathed in as much of the fresh spring air as I could. I breathed with the intention of capturing the strength of the universe, hopefully, in this fickle human soul that I have. I wanted that strength, or if I had any strength to begin with, I wanted all of it to surface. It seemed to have worked, but when the moment came that I was in her presence once again, I knew it would fade bit by bit, for she had always made me weak, in every good way that there was.

It was the beginning of a long evening yet to come. We were busy setting up a small and relatively discreet portion of the university grounds, which could have been so cold and dreary if this wasn't the occasion—if the seats decorating the pavilion weren't clothed in brilliant turquoise, if the old pillars weren't laced with daisies and satin ribbons, or if the path wasn't lined with the outdoor lights all shining. But all of it was so, and it was anything but cold and dreary. Most of the school might already be taking the night off to the town to get their share of leisure. Today has not been so leisurely to me, unfortunately, but I was not looking for it, anyway. This was something of greater importance, and it has been for a long time. Tonight was the one time I would be able to make this night happen, and it will, no matter what it took.

I had heard it come out of her very lips— _"Yes . . . yes, Hershel,"_ words that made my heart leap with joy and excitement. The way she said it rang in my ears like a peaceful melody, a prayer answered and a wish come true indeed.

 _We were both in tears in a matter of seconds. She clung to me and embraced me so tight, and I let her tears fall onto me. I wept, in happiness and relief, in slight disbelief, and also in bewilderment. I kissed her forehead gently and placed the dainty ring on her finger. "Yes," she said once again, as she pressed her lips against mine. And we kissed, standing there and then, in a moment of magic, of timelessness. We were together, and somehow, I was sure we will always be._

I remembered seeing her earlier today, before we left for the lab for another one of her tests. She had told me before about the first one she had a week ago, which was all too distressing that she fell down during it. I made sure to keep her calm by the time I dropped her off the lab. It was understandable how she was still a bit anxious, fortunately not as bad as before. We embraced before parting, not knowing how much I would eventually miss her in the hours to come . . . until now, just waiting for her to be here.

"Hershel. You look awfully . . . un- _gentlemanly_." Clark Triton interrupted. He pointed to my attire and laughed. "I'm kidding, of course you don't. But you don't have to be Professor Layton all the time." I looked down to my teaching uniform, which I had forgotten to change out of even after classes had ended. "Go get something more fitting, now, will you?" He added, telling me that my new suit was waiting in my office for me.

I grinned along with him. "I will, _sir_. But let me keep the hat, please," I said, tipping the top hat Claire had given me as a present for my admission to the Gressenheller faculty.

Clark nodded. "Oh, you _better_ keep that hat on, Hershel." We looked around, scanning the garden His young boy Luke, who was just done playing near the trees, trod along the grass and towards him. Clark quickly picked the little one up despite his protests.

"And you, young man, you wait right here. I'll just get something to clean you up with." My friend put a finger to his lips and whispered something to him, after which he put the boy down. Luke meekly walked to the pavilion steps and sat on one of them. He began fidgeting as he waited. Clark turned back to me and smirked. "I'll say Uncle Hershel should do the same thing."

I smiled to acknowledge him, as he walked off to those who are supposed to attend to our dinner. Luke stared at me with his eyes growing more quietly impatient. I sat next to him for a while, telling him to wait just a little longer, and to hopefully help make it less tedious, handed him the small Rubik's cube I always had in my coat in case I needed just a simple puzzle to keep me busy. I moved it a few times before giving it to him, who immediately tinkered on it with his little hands.

"I'll be back, Luke. Enjoy your little puzzle . . . I'll see you later."

"Thank you, 'fessor," he replied, smiling and waving goodbye.

"You're welcome." I smiled back at him, before heading back to the office to get my evening suit. The sun has completely set, and the lights lined along the garden glowed even brighter . . . as did the stars above, which I imagine were always guiding Claire and me to one another. I thought of her story during the time machine launch, how she deemed it was so beautiful despite being so painful, spreading her so thinly across the flow of time. It was surreal, she said. I was there in the grassy field with her, that exact moment. She described the blinding daylight, how clear and fresh everything around her was, were it not for the scattered machinery shrapnel. She said I ran to her and held her close as soon as I got to her. I had held her in my arms right before she faded back . . .

Knowing that was enough to give way to tears, difficult to hold back for it was about her. And to me it has always been that way. I thought of how even through leaps in time I was there for her. It wasn't a coincidence, was it? Claire had felt it, and brought it along with the hints of fresh dew underneath the soot in her hair. I may not have been there to truly feel it, but being so close to her for the eight days she was in her hospital bed was enough for that sensation to reach out to me.

She and I, have we always been this close? Perhaps we have been intertwined long before all of this happened. Now, we were closer than ever, and will be even closer. I will see you once again soon. I know tonight was just the beginning of another adventure for us, filled with puzzles and tricks along the way for sure like it always had been. Through this we will find our place in the heart of the universe, and soon as husband and wife, together even in the most baffling adversity.

* * *

 **** A/N: I'm sorry for the terribly long hiatus. I'm still continuing this 3 xoxo It's just that this story is close to my heart.**


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